


Maybe I Never Knew You

by portkeykelsea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Astoria bashing, Breakup, Character Growth, F/M, False Memories, Hurt Hermione Granger, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Not Cheating, POV Third Person, Post-Hogwarts, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, dramione hea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portkeykelsea/pseuds/portkeykelsea
Summary: Written for DFFR 2.0 Drabble DaysPrompt: Maybe sometimes people did not actually change. Maybe you just never knew who they really were.Draco and Hermione fight in a bookshop about some recent decisions/mistakes Draco made that hurt Hermione.*** potential trigger warnings for breakups, alleged cheating, and a drinking problem
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 56
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *trigger warning* slight alcohol problem mentioned.
> 
> Note: Okay this was a little heartbreaking to write. But know that if I were to continue it, it would lead to an HEA!!

Flourish & Blott’s grew quiet at the day’s end.

Hermione Granger had spent her free day there, reading in her favorite corner. Merlin knows she needed it after the week she’d had. Luckily, the shop allowed her the private space to read so long as she mentioned their name every couple of interviews or so.  
Being a war heroine certainly had its perks.

She stood to gather her things and shelve her books. Just as she replaced her final book a pair of icy eyes met hers, freezing her feet to the floor.

“I don’t want to talk to you Draco.” Her voice sounded braver than it felt.

Draco rushed to her side, his brow creased with worry.  
“Granger, please. You’ve been ignoring me for days. I need to tell you something.”

His gentle plea melted her insides, but she refused to allow him in. Not after what had happened.

“No,” she gritted out, “I heard plenty of yours and Blaise’s conversation the other night. I don’t care to hear more.”

Draco’s body went rigid. If she’d heard their drunken conversation, he had no ground to stand on. A sickening, foreboding feeling settled in his stomach.

As Hermione hurried her steps down the staircase, Draco followed with a string of desperate apologies close on her heels.  
“I’m sorry. We had too much to drink. It won’t happen again, I’m so sorr-“

But Hermione whirled around and cut him off.  
“You’ve said that before!”

She let out a sigh and glanced around the shop. Luckily they were alone, apart from the shopkeeper who had mercifully stepped into the shop’s office.

“I thought you didn’t have a problem with my drinking?”

“We’ve talked about this. I don’t have a problem with you drinking, but I do have a problem with you getting drunk. You turn into a completely different person. And it’s hurting me.”

“Please don’t take me and Blaise seriously.”  
He reached out to comfort her, but she flinched away.

“Were you or were you not both discussing my...heritage?”

Draco thought back, trying to remember what all was said. But it was too fuzzy.

“I heard you call me a ‘mud blood’.”

The pain of guilt flitted across Draco’s face. Surely he hadn’t said that? But she had no reason to lie to him.

“Draco,” her voice crackled with pain, “How could you?”

He looked into Hermione’s eyes and watched as her glare turn sorrowful.

“And were you or were you not ‘out’ with Astoria Greengrass that same night?”

At this, Draco hung his head. That, he remembered. Even sloshed.

Hermione felt her throat tightening. She had read the papers and hoped they weren’t true. But she refused to cry in front of him. Not here. Not now.

“Hermione, I-“

“Stop.”  
Hermione held up her hand as she took a couple steps back from him. When she spoke her words were barely above a whisper.  
“You know I thought you were different now? Even in school I didn’t believe you were cruel. But...it’s been what, 6 months? And you keep hurting me. So maybe people don’t really change.. that or I never really knew you to begin with. Because it feels like I’ll only ever be a mudblood in your eyes.”

 _No, no things can’t end like this. Say something you bloody coward!_ Draco inwardly screamed at himself. _Fix it now. Hurry, before she leaves. She’s about to leave you._

But no words came out. And her next ones shattered his heart.

“I hope it was worth it. The drinking, the jokes and cruel talk, Astoria.... all of it. I hope it was worth it for you.”

With bleary eyes and cheeks tinged pink, Draco felt his chest clench horribly as she stepped further away from him.  
“Hermione, please. Wait!”

Draco tore after her from the shop into the evening sunlight; the bell on the door tinkled cheerfully, sounding out of place.

He ran a few steps in every direction, looking wildly around Diagon Alley.

But Hermione was nowhere to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! After the responses this drabble has received, I'm going to continue the story!  
> Please keep in mind I'm new to writing. I want the story to be realistic and not give the characters too easy of an out - but I also don't want the entire story to be heartbreaking! Finding a balance between the two is my main goal.  
> I tried to incorporate some lightness into this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it.

An urgent knock sounded at the front door of Grimmauld Place.

When Harry Potter turned the knob, one of the last people he expected to see was childhood-rival-turned-chum, Draco Malfoy.

“Is she here?” His voice was ragged, and he looked a mess, but Draco was definitely sober.

Harry inclined his head.   
“I’m not sure she’d want me to tell you either way. Why are _you_ here?”

Draco, pushed the door wider and let himself in.

“No please. Come in.” Harry gave a mock wave of his hand as he muttered, “It’s only a quarter past midnight on a Tuesday.”

He followed Draco to the sitting area, and summoned tea for them.

“Potter," he sighed, "I’ve royally messed up now.”

“That much is obvious,” Harry shrugged, “So what are you going to do about it?”

“No idea. What do you do when you upset the Weaslette?” Draco asked, stirring his cuppa.

“Ron’s not here, so you don’t have to do that. And her name is Potter now anyway. About the other thing - I’m not sure mine and Ginny’s experiences are going to help this time.” Harry leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“What do you mean? Why are you...” Draco stopped to eye him, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not nothing, that’s a power move. You’re not going to help me, are you?”

It was quiet for a moment, and Harry took the opportunity to get a good look at Draco. Hair disheveled, crinkled robes, circles under his eyes. Not to mention the man’s expression was one of pure heartache.

Harry sighed and leaned forward.  
“All right. I’ll help you.”

Harry sipped his tea while Draco launched into his story. He told Harry everything that had happened, up to Flourish & Blott’s that afternoon. Once he’d finished, Draco wiped his palms on his knees, waiting for Harry to speak.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “You’re kidding me, Malfoy. Astoria? You had to know that was a bad move. Even if nothing happened, which like you said is ‘highly unlikely’, you know how people talk. The press alone lost their minds over it! And I’m sure Hermione’s thought the worst. Relationships don't bounce back from that sort of thing.”

When Draco didn’t respond, Harry glanced at him.  
_No point in beating him up about this; he’s already down._

Clearing his throat, Harry spoke.  
“Look the thing about Hermione? She hasn’t changed. The Hermione you talked to at the bookshop today is the same Hermione you called a mudblood during second year. The same one you couldn’t take your eyes off of fourth year - don’t look at me like that, I knew. She’s the same person who held up under Bellatrix’s torture and the same person who bested you in every class.”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s brow furrowed.

“I mean some people change. Look at yourself. Look at me. We’re sitting in my house talking about your relationship problems.”

At this, Draco almost chuckled.

Harry continued, “But some people don’t have to work on improving themselves as much as others. Take Hermione – sure she has her own demons, but she’s lived above them from the start, and takes new struggles in stride. Whereas you or I have had to get out of our own way first. And even then, we still have to learn a lot of things the hard way. And sadly, it’s the rest of us who do a bang-up job of not truly seeing the others.”

Draco nodded in thought. Going over the past months in his mind he wondered how much he had seen Hermione. Sure, he cared about her. More so than any witch he’d been with before. But had he truly seen her? Or had he just left her to deal with his problems as well as her own?

“Do you think I have a drinking problem?”

Harry was quiet for a moment before responding.  
“It doesn’t matter what I think. But if you’re asking the question, you might look into getting help.” 

Hermione’s voice echoed in Draco’s head.  
_You turn into a completely different person. And it’s hurting me…_

“All right,” Harry interrupted his thoughts, “Time for you to go. She’s upstairs and will have my head if she knows I let you in here.”

Something twisted in Draco’s chest, knowing she was here, but so far away.  
He stood to leave.  
“What do I do though?”

Harry looked him square in the eye,  
“Get some help. And start seeing her. Really seeing her. And for the love of pumpkin pasties clean yourself up before you try to talk with her again. You look a right mess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tah-dah!  
> I'm hoping to keep these chapters at 1000 words or less, so hopefully the plot will move forward at a good pace and not drag too much.  
> I'm thinking at least 10 chapters, but since I'm new to writing, it's hard to know how long it will take to get to where I'm wanting to end it. But I have my story mapped out and am excited to continue this piece!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up - there's lot of narration in this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter mentions some general information about AA (Alcoholics Anonymous). Please know I am only a writer, I am not personally affiliated with AA, but I know people who it has helped and it feels appropriate for Draco's character in this story to at least be introduced to it.   
> I don't plan to have many scenes of meetings involved, but this first bit seemed important. And though future chapters won't have as much narration, the knowledge of Draco attending meetings will be in the background of the story.

_3 months later_

Draco hadn’t tried to talk with Hermione again. Partially because he was afraid to, and partially because he knew it was no use. The only thing Hermione would truly be responsive to was change. And unfortunately, Draco was learning: change was not quick.

Yesterday he had finally made arrangements to ‘get help’ like Harry suggested. Draco had gone to muggle London, of which he was rather proud of himself for, and sat in a room of men and women who talked about their drinking problems. They were so open and honest about how it had affected their lives, their personalities, their loved ones.

Draco didn’t know what to make of it at first. He’d hardly heard anyone open up in such a way. He spent the majority of the meeting trying to discern whether he actually had a problem. One man got up and spoke of losing his career and entire family because of his addiction, yet he still seemed hopeful about his life. Draco knew he didn’t have it that bad. But then a woman talked next about her struggles, which seemed much smaller and more familiar. She voiced her reason for coming was to stop drinking. That made sense enough to Draco.

Before leaving, he heard more than he would’ve thought to ask. Things like strategies people had tried, what helped and what didn’t. Words like integrity and humility were discussed. Surrender and courage. All words Draco Malfoy didn’t associate with himself.

So tonight, he lay in bed, thinking about these words, these strategies, and where he fit in with it all.

Draco wondered if a job might be good for him. Perhaps if he was busier he would be less interested in drinking. He didn’t _have_ to work, and most people had an aversion to him, but he was intelligent and talented. Maybe something at the ministry would be worth looking into. He made a mental note to go there in the morning.

Eventually his thoughts turned to Hermione. Bossy, beautiful, tender, clever Hermione. To his relief she hadn’t dated anyone yet, but he knew the time would come. His jaw tightened at the thought.

He had only seen her once since their breakup. It was in Diagon Alley, and he disapparated before she could spot him. He knew he was being a coward, but he also wanted to give her space. He didn’t want to hurt her again. The realization made him think back to the closing remarks of the meeting he attended: It works if you work it.

Draco fell asleep that night wondering what he was working toward.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Draco flooed to the ministry to see about a job.

He knew anything in the Auror Office was out, given his past record and lack of training. But maybe he could still work within Magical Law Enforcement somewhere. It seemed the most exciting. Or maybe he could look into the Department of Magical Games and Sports; working within the realm of quidditch would be fun.

To his surprise he felt excited at the prospect of working. He put on a pleasant smile as he stepped up to the information counter.

A tall black woman with a Scottish accent greeted him with a smile.  
“How can I help you?”

Draco glanced around before leaning in to whisper, “I’m interested in applying for a job.”

“Unfortunately,” the woman whispered back, “We don’t have any openings right now.”

His previous excitement deflated.

Just then, there was a commotion from across the room. Arthur Weasley was scrambling to his feet to chase after a small flying carpet, which was heading straight for Draco.

“Not again!” The woman at the counter said.

Eyes wide, Draco reacted before thinking and grabbed the edge of the carpet with both hands. It tried to wriggle away, but he adjusted his grip and began rolling it up. The carpet let out a moan of defeat.

Arthur Weasley heaved a sigh, “Thank you, Mister - oh - Malfoy. That bit of carpet has been escaping my office all week.”

Draco gave Mr. Weasley a nod as he handed the carpet back to him.

Mr. Weasley let out a chuckle, “Poor Alison here has had to put up with me the past two days. Sorry dear.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Weasley. I’m just glad I wasn’t the one having to catch it this time.”

They shared a laugh as if one of them had said a joke. Draco raised a brow.  
“Well, if you are sure you don’t have any openings, I’ll be on my way then.”

He gave a nod to Alison, and turned to do the same to Mr. Weasley who looked at him quizzically.

“You’re interested in a job?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?!   
> I had so much fun inserting Mr. Weasley in this way and can't wait for the next chapter to unfold. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the beginnings of Draco learning some important lessons. It also has a bit of sadness in it, especially towards the end. 
> 
> I’m trying to make the flow of the story legitimate; it can’t be too easy for them.

Never, not in his wildest dreams, did Draco Malfoy imagine he would be working for Mr. Weasley.

Yet here he was, a couple of weeks into the job. In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, studying the flying carpet that had earned him the position.

It was humbling to say the least.

In fact, Draco had already confiscated a muggle broom, a muggle chess set, and to Mr. Weasley’s enthusiasm, a rubber duck.

Once Draco’s paperwork and initial training were completed, the awkwardness truly settled in.

Of course, he had been horrible to the entire Weasley family as a child. And though he’d made progress with George, Ginny, and Ron - he’d barely spent time with their parents. A few meals at The Burrow, but nothing significant.

But even if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had no quarrel with him about his days at Hogwarts, he wondered about their protectiveness of Hermione. She was practically family to them, after all. And he had hurt her. Deeply.

And yet, Arthur Weasley hadn’t pressed him. About anything. He hadn’t brought the topic of Hermione up once. He hadn’t even asked Draco why he was looking for work in the first place.

Though Mr. Weasley would earn top marks in a class on quirkiness, he was never unkind to him.

And that was what unsettled Draco the most.

“Ouch!” Mr. Weasley yelped as the tea set he’d been working on burned the palm of his hand.“Not quite fixed then, are we?”

“Mr. Weasley?” Draco asked.

“Yes?”

“Does Hermione know you’ve given me this job?”

Mr. Weasley set down his wand carefully, and leaned back in his chair. Looking up from the cursed tea set, he met Draco’s eyes.

“She does,” he said with a slow nod.

Draco didn’t respond right away. He debated asking another question, but he felt anxious enough with the one. He returned the slow nod and focused back on his work.

They worked quietly through the remainder of the day. 

When Draco arrived back at Malfoy Manor, an owl was waiting for him from Blaise saying to meet him at the pub.

———————————————————————

“Oi look who’s finally made it!” Blaise Zabini crowed from the bar, drink in hand. 

Draco gave a smirk until he realized Blaise wasn’t alone. His jaw tightened.  
“What’s she doing here?”

“Tsk. Tsk. That’s no way to greet a girl, Draco.”

Astoria Greengrass pouted her too-perfect lips. She wore too much makeup and a too tight dress that was too low in the front.

_ Too much, too much, too much . _

Draco hadn’t since her since...

He turned to storm out, but Blaise pulled him back.  
“Look if I’d have said she was coming you wouldn’t’ve. And I haven’t seen you in ages, mate. She’s promised to play nice. Right, Astoria?”

Astoria leaned forward and gave Blaise a wink that did nothing to convince Draco. 

“Aw c’mon. You’ll feel better once you’ve got some firewhiskey in you.”

Blaise tapped the oak bar top, and 3 shots of Fire Whisky slid their direction. 

Draco paused. He hadn’t drank since the breakup, hadn’t even wanted to. Seeing alcohol was a bit of a sore reminder of it all.

“Draco? You okay?” Blaise asked.

Draco tried to shake the thought away. If he had stayed away from it for three months, he could do it again. There’s no way he had a “problem”, because he could stop whenever he wanted. Hadn’t he proved that to himself over the last several weeks? He was in complete control. Besides, it  _ had _ been ages since he’d spent time with Blaise. 

He threw back the shot. There was no going back now.

“Whoo! There he is!” Blaise slapped him on the back and ordered another round.

Astoria clapped as she slid closer to Draco and whispered something near his ear.

The night shimmered on. It wasn’t long before Draco was gone: shots of Fire Whiskey, a round of chocolate liqueur, Beetle Berry Whiskey, and Merlin knows what else. Eventually Draco Malfoy was too sloshed to know what was going on around him.

Too drunk to pay attention to Astoria checking her timepiece.

Too wasted to notice the once-familiar witch who passed through the pub near midnight; the witch with thick, curly hair and sad, honey-brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y’all have been concerned about Draco & Astoria. I put a couple hints in this chapter about what’s really going on! Did you catch them?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heavy chapter is ahead of you, but I promise some light will follow! Thank you so much for reading. xx

It was early afternoon before Draco woke up. Head swimming, he glanced to his nightstand. His paid house elf had left him some healing potions as well as a tall glass of water.

Sipping on Pepper-Up Potion, he closed his eyes. Trying to remember what had happened last night.

The pub. The drinking. He could still hear Blaise’s cheers. Astoria’s giggling.

Astoria...

A sinking feeling fell from Draco’s chest to his stomach and weighed there like an anchor.

Memories of Astoria flooded his mind. Her pouty mouth. Her tight, revealing dress. Him slipping it off her as the moonlight shone through his bedroom window. Astoria’s body against his. Their sweat mingling. Her breaths and moans. He could smell her perfume, taste her tongue. Feel her touching him.

Draco sickened at the thought. He bolted to his bathroom to heave into the toilet.

_What have I done? No no no. Please no._

Stomach emptied, Draco leaned back against the bathroom wall and dropped his head to his hands. Sobbing.  
  
It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Sure, he used to do that sort of thing, but not anymore. He wasn’t that kind of man now.  


_ Or am I?_

A sense of self-hatred washed over him. 

After some time, his insides stopped churning and he made his way back to his room to scribble a note to Blaise. 

_ My room. Now.  _

He opened the window and let his eagle owl out to deliver the message.

While he waited, he downed the entire glass of water and summoned for more. He finished off another healing potion, got dressed, and gave his teeth a good brushing. 

Moments later, Blaise stepped through the Floo of Draco’s bedroom grate.

“You too eh?” Blaise chuckled. “I got up about an hour ago. I landed the twins after all, by the way. Just the flexibility of one of them is enough to make any man... well. But put the two of them together and - what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

_Twins?_

Draco worked his jaw over.  
“Astoria,” he managed to ground out.

Blaise raised a brow.  
“What about her?”

Draco paused. He didn’t know what Blaise knew, and wondered how much to reveal. He trusted Blaise, but his friend never took anything seriously. Incidentally, that’s one reason he and Potter started getting on so well. Potter took  _ everything _ seriously. 

Draco handed Blaise a fresh glass of water and chose his words carefully.  
“I didn’t hear from her this morning.”

Blaise shrugged, “Me neither. But like I said, I was dead to the world.”

Draco sighed, trying a different direction.   
“I don’t remember last night.”

“What?”

“I don’t.”

“Downing the entire bottle of malt whiskey?”

Draco shook his head. 

“What about daring Theo to talk to Lovegood?”

“Theo was there?” 

Blaise smacked his forehead.  
“What about the twins? Tell me you remember the twins.”

At this point Draco was glaring at Blaise. He walked over to sit on the edge of his bed. Blaise chose the wingback chair to lounge on. 

“Okay, so you don’t remember the twins. That’s fine. I’m fine.” He paused dramatically, “It’s just that it was my first time shagging twins, I mean you could be a little more excited for me..hey, Draco. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That is not a ‘nothing’ face. I haven’t seen that face in months. Not since...never mind.”

“No,” Draco turned to him, “Since when? I want to know.”

Blaise averted his gaze, muttering, “Since Granger ended things.”

“And do you remember  _why_ she ‘ended things’ as you put it? You of all people should.”

Blaise was quiet. 

“I’m listening,” Draco near-shouted. 

“Because of the drinking. Because of our stupid conversation where we spoke ill of her. Because of Astoria. Look, if I had known that’s what would happen I wouldn’t have pushed you, mate.”

“Yes you would’ve.”

The tension in the room heightened. 

“Sorry?”

Draco scoffed.  
“You would have. You did it last night! You invited me out, first of all. And then you wanted me to drink with you. And brought Astoria along too.”

Blaise stood up. “Don’t blame me. You didn’t have to drink. I didn’t force you.” 

Heat rolled through Draco’s body. He seemed to have enough sense to end the conversation before things got worse. 

“Get out.”

“Fine,” Blaise nodded, “But before I go just know you’re being a child. That’s why you lost her, mate. Not because of me or anyone else. You did this.”

And with a crackle of green flame, Blaise was gone. 

Draco paced around his room, stomping on Blaise’s words. He kicked his nightstand in frustration, and a small card fluttered to the floor. Draco bent to pick it up, and gave it a quick inspection. He glanced at his clock.

It took less than a heartbeat for him to decide.

He grabbed his muggle jacket Hermione had got for him, and apparated to downtown London. 

———————————————————————

“...So I am not an angry drunk. It wasn’t even a daily necessity for me. But I knew that’s where I was headed. For ages, alcohol kept me from living the life I want to live.. and I wanted to change that.  
That’s why I started coming here, why I’m still here. Because the sort of life I was living before wasn’t satisfying. Maybe momentarily, but not in the ways that matter to me.  
And while recovery is a lifelong process - it’s one I’m committed to, because I know what the other option looks like. And I don’t want that for my life. Or my wife’s.”

A round of applause went throughout the room. Several people murmured, “Thanks Thomas.”

Thomas Danes smiled in return, briefly catching Draco’s eye as he scanned the group. 

After the meeting, Thomas approached him. Once they’d introduced themselves, he asked, “First meeting?”

Draco cleared his throat.  
“I’ve been to another...a month or so back.”

Thomas nodded.

They visited for a bit. Oddly, Draco felt encouraged. So much so that when Thomas asked to exchange contact information, Draco didn’t object. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point in the story I plan for the alcohol to become less and less of a problem.  
> There are still some struggles to overcome, but the drinking stuff won’t be as much in the forefront.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione FINALLY have some interaction again. They meet at work. 
> 
> More of Mr. Weasley and Draco’s work relationship unfolds as Arthur includes Draco on a project.

Draco arrived at work an hour early.

In fact, he had been doing so for several weeks now. He even spent his birthday sober: a quiet dinner with his mother. He was also attending his meetings regularly. But what was really helping him was corresponding and meeting with Thomas Danes.

Thomas just understood Draco. They had so much in common - both sons of high social class people. Both drinking only for enjoyment, but always losing control. And both had made huge mistakes with the person they care about most because of that loss of control. 

The differences?

Thomas was a muggle. The irony was not lost on Draco.

Thomas was also 15 years sober.

This had motivated Draco to take all of this more seriously. He’d ridded the manor of any alcohol and shut down all his tabs at the pubs. He smoothed things over with Blaise and informed of his progress, asking him to not invite him to go drinking anymore. He’d met with Potter about the same things and had even found himself picking up new hobbies and revisiting old ones. Like quidditch workouts, reading, and arriving to work extra early.

Even with these changes, when he arrived at the ministry, he was not prepared to meet Hermione at the lift.

Yet there she was. Pencil skirt, hair down, file folders in hand. Seeing her sent a flood of panic through him. 

But when he offered her the lift to herself, she said,

“Don’t be silly,” and gestured for him to join her.

Oh how his heart ached for her. To even be standing near her felt like an undeserved miracle.

Draco wanted to make everything right and start fresh. But didn’t count on her feeling the same. Couldn’t. 

“Do you often get to work this early?”

She asked, making polite conversation.

He shrugged.  
“It’s a recent thing, but I’m enjoying it.”

“Enjoying it? What are you working on right now?”

“It’s not so much the work itself I enjoy,” Draco worded carefully, “It’s more about the people I’m working with and what this job has given me.”

She leaned back against the wall in thought.“You work with Mr. Weasley.”

Draco nodded.  
“For him, actually.”

Hermione’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. 

“He’s a good boss,” Draco said. And meant it. 

To his surprise, she smiled. 

“I imagine he would be. He’s always asking me about the original functions of muggle artifacts. Especially when it comes to technology.”

Draco smiled in response. Mr. Weasley  _ loved _ talking to Draco about technology. His whole body got involved: wild hand gestures and eyes the size of tea saucers. 

Hermione continued to ramble.

Merlin, he never wanted her to stop talking, worried the wrong comment from him would silence her.

“But he’s learned so much. He’s more capable than he gives himself credit for.” She said pointedly.

Draco’s eyes snapped to hers. 

_Was she talking about Mr. Weasley still? Or me?_

Their eye contact held until the lift reached her stop.

Once the doors closed, Draco let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, heart pounding.

_ We talked. And she didn’t seem to hate me. Of course she’s still hurt, but that interaction... _

It fueled him towards more improvement. _Two_ _ more _ _months_ went by of the same: Draco attending meetings and being mentored by Thomas. He’d even earned himself a few chips. He continued to read, workout, and get to work early, too. He started liking himself again. He’d even caught a lift with Hermione a few more times. It was nothing special, but it felt that way to Draco. 

He had pushed the Astoria stuff to the side for now. She tried to contact him here and there, but he refused to speak with her. Something about their apparent past didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

A little over a week into the month of August, Draco gave a routine report to Mr. Weasley.

“The amount of shrinking door keys has increased by 12% this quarter and the biting kettles are at an increase of 3%.”

“Why do you think that’s the case?”

Draco thought about this. Mr. Weasley often did this: questioned  why.

‘ Don’t just look at the facts,’ he would say, ‘But see where they come from and why they’re occurring.’

And he often looked to Draco for input.

Draco wondered aloud.  
“Could look into the demographics of the witches and wizards we’ve confiscated items from. It’s August...”

“August!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed. 

Draco raised a brow. But Mr. Weasley expected him to continue to think it through.

“August. August... Oh. Maybe these numbers are from students. Not underage. But students of age for magic, getting too restless in their summer activities? They get bored and start messing with one another, maybe even with some muggles?”

“Exactly! Good work, Draco, good work. We usually see an influx around this time of year and it’s almost always that exact circumstance.” He sighed, “I know Fred and George were guilty of it.”

Mr. Weasley’s eyes misted over in a sad, but proud way. 

They were suddenly interrupted by a rushed banging on the office door.

“Come in,” Mr. Weasley called, blinking rapidly. 

Two wizards stepped through the door. One was Rufus Scrimgeour, the other; Harry Potter. Draco knew both to be heads of the Auror Office. However, he did not know why both men were out of breath.

“Come quick, Arthur,” Scrimgeour panted, “Pettigrew’s hand. W-we found it.”

Arthur stood, at once, and glanced at Draco.“Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. He’d already asked Mr. Weasley to just call him Draco. He glanced up from the report.

Reading the expression on Mr. Weasley’s face brought realization.

He was asking Draco to join them. Join them on inspecting a dark magic artifact. And not because of suspicion, no. Because of his work with Mr. Weasley.   
And the manner of addressing him was to set a tone of respect for the others.

Something pulled in Draco’s throat. He cleared it to school his features, and stood from his desk.

Harry threw a quick smirk in Draco’s direction as he led the group to his personal office space. His steps and words were quick.

“Neville found it on a raid. Just this morning. It hasn’t been touched by any of us, but we figured you’d want to inspect it first, Mr. Weasley. It arrived not 5 minutes ago.”

Neville Longbottom was pacing by Harry’s desk as the four wizards stepped into Harry’s office. His eyes only widened slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy.

The silver hand lay in an open box, warded with protective magic.

“Give us a good debrief, Neville,” Arthur instructed, “Rufus, take notes.”

Scrimgeour summoned parchment and quill. Neville cleared his throat.

“Right. Well, this has been several years of searching. The last we knew of its location was when Harry and Ron escaped from-” Neville’s face reddened and he audibly gulped.   


His eyes flitted to Draco who appeared unaffected.

“Never mind that,” Harry interjected, “Where did you find it?”

“Crabbe senior’s place. We don’t know how it got there, but we do know a few things about the artefact. It was created by Voldemort and ‘gifted’ to Pettigrew. It supposedly has healing powers as well as protection to the wearer against curses. Though, at signs of weakness or treason it strangles the owner.”

Harry’s mind flitted back to the horrible sight of Pettigrew suffocating himself after he helped him and Ron to escape the Malfoy’s dungeons.

“Well, what do we think?” Harry asked the room.

The scratching of Scrimgeour’s quill filled the silence.

“I’ve performed the procedural counter-curses, but there’s still dark magic imbued.” Neville grimaced.

Mr. Weasley spoke up, “We will examine it. I have a hunch, but better wait ‘til I find out more.”

“Great,” Harry said, “Maybe ask for assistance from Herm- from other connections you trust to look into it. Get back to me with whatever you find.”

Mr. Weasley nodded. He asked Draco to carefully collect the silver hand and follow him back to his office.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco works on the silver hand with no luck. 
> 
> Hermione’s birthday comes up.

Little progress had been made on Peter Pettigrew’s silver hand. Mr. Weasley had a dozen other people under him, in the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Yet, he had asked Draco (in the misuse of muggle artifacts office) to be the one to help him with this project.

Draco did not take it lightly.

Mr. Weasley had become something of a role model to him, funnily enough. He took Draco seriously and held him to a high standard. He pushed him: his work ethic, thought process, diligence, everything. And at the same time was encouraging and lighthearted, not to mention intentional in their non-work-related conversations. Draco never would have guessed this quirky, muggle-obsessed wizard would come to mean so much to him.

“Draco,” Mr. Weasley said, “Look what Molly got me yesterday.”

Draco glanced up from the silver hand to see a giddy Arthur Weasley sporting an airplane pin on his lapel.

Draco knew it was an airplane, thanks to Hermione forcing him to fly on one, ‘for experience’. Though she hated flying herself, she had insisted. And Draco had to admit, flying in an airplane was a bit fascinating.

“Very nice. Airplane, right?”

“Good form, Draco, yes! I’ve always wanted to learn how to fly one.”

Mr. Weasley looked wistfully out his office window at the grey sky.

Draco couldn’t help but grin at the easy-going man.

Mr. Weasley turned to look back at him.

“How goes it?” He gestured to the hand.

Draco’s eyes felt tight. He grimaced.   
“Not well. Still unable to identify the defensive and protective spells keeping us from undoing the dark magic. I don’t know, sir, maybe we should pass it on for someone else to look at.”

“Nonsense, nonsense...” Mr. Weasley trailed off.

“It won’t bother me for you to have her look at it, if that’s what this is about.”

Mr. Weasley gave a polite grin.

“You don’t miss a trick, do you? Ah well, let’s give it another week or two before we take a different course of action. After all, it’s taken several years to even locate the item, a few weeks more won’t hurt.”

The work day crept to an end but Draco was no closer to getting answers than the day the hand had arrived at the ministry.

———————————————————————

On the morning of her birthday, Hermione woke to the _tap-tap-tapping_ sound of several owls at her window.

Each carried a parcel with her name on it.

Hermione grinned and let out a yawn. Slowly, she stretched out in the warm sunlight that streamed across her bed. She opened her window with a flick of her wand, inviting the owls in.

They landed on her transfigured sill, extended especially for them, and nibbled on the food that floated before them. They hooted happily as Hermione relieved them from their burdens.

“Make yourselves comfortable while I brush my teeth,” she called to them as she padded into the bathroom.

In five minutes she was fresh-faced with clean teeth and her hair in a simple braid. 

After the owls had finished their refreshments, she hopped back in bed, sitting cross-legged in front of her parcels.

“Happy birthday to me,” she said in a sing-song voice.

The first package was from Mr. & Mr. Weasley: a leather bound journal and actual fountain pens. She smiled at the note that read,

_  
Happy birthday, Hermione!  _ _ Arthur had fun picking out the muggle quills. We hope they work well for you.  
_ _ Love,  
_ _ Arthur and Molly _

The second package was from Harry and Ginny. Harry had gotten her the new book she’d been telling him about. Ginny had gotten her... lingerie?

_ What on earth do I need this for? _

She picked up the black, silky fabric; a note fell from the folds. 

_Hermione,_

_ I know you won’t see the point of wearing this, but hear me out. This isn’t something you’d ever buy for yourself. You’ll look and feel stunning in it. Not to mention the confidence. I know you’ve worn lingerie before but never just for you. And wearing it for yourself is something every witch needs to learn to do. So - enjoy!  _

_ xo, Ginny _

Hermione chewed on her lip in thought.

She tossed it to the side for now, and reached for the third parcel.

A simple note read:

_Happy Birthday_

It wasn’t signed but Hermione recognized the writing immediately.

“Draco,” she whispered. 

And a thousand thoughts flitted through her mind. Her fingers trembled as she tore at the wrappings.

On opening the gift, she laughed.

Actually _laughed_.

He’d sent her favorite muggle candy. A simple chocolate bar, but one he would’ve had to go to muggle London to purchase. This amused her in a way she hadn’t expected. 

Typical Draco, catching her off guard in the best ways.

She sighed. If only her heart didn’t pound every time they caught the same lift at work. Every time those eyes locked on hers. Or found her in her dreams.

If only she could be interested in someone else. But no one seemed to match her wit or even catch her interest for that matter.

_ If only he hadn’t cheated... _

That was the real hold up for her. It’s the one thing she couldn’t let go. No matter how much she wanted to. No matter how much it hurt to want him. 

She might be able to forgive him, someday, but giving the relationship a second chance wasn’t an option. She refused to allow someone to treat her like that.

She closed her eyes to keep from tearing up.   


Hermione knew he’d been working on himself. Mr. Weasley let more than a few comments slip. Draco was sober now. Truly sober. Had a group he went to for meetings and even people holding him accountable. Not to mention his job -not that he needed the pay- seemed to be good for him too.   
A small corner of her mind was relieved he hadn’t dated anyone else, but she couldn’t let herself dwell on that thought. 

Shaking it all from her mind, her gaze fell to the lingerie. 

Thinking of Ginny’s note, Hermione snatched the garment up and marched to her full-length mirror to try it on.

“Oh,” she breathed as she turned to see her reflection. “Oh wow.”

Ginny was right. It did look good on. _Really good._ The black teddy was all silk and lace with a deep v-cut that rested at the top of her abdomen. Her breasts were accentuated in all the right places and the waist was drawn-in in a flattering way. She turned to see straps cross-cross down her back, leading her eyes to her bum. 

_I never thought a g-string would feel so...good._

It took less than a heartbeat for her to decide.   
Hermione threw on a work-appropriate black dress over the teddy, smirking at her little secret. She put some simple earrings on and brushed mascara onto her lashes. On the way to her floo she made a mental note to thank Ginny later. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's birthday. They run into each other. Literally. :)

“Dancing. Drinking. Cake. That’s what we do for birthdays. How many times do we have to go over this, Hermione?”  
Ron Weasley leaned against her desk, hands shoved in his pockets.  
  
“No Ron, I don’t care about going out this year. We can have a cake at Harry’s or something.”  
  
“Have a cake at Harry’s...” Ron repeated.  
  
“Yes, it’d be nice! Calm, relaxing, no fuss.”  
  
Ron muttered, “No fun, more like.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  
  
In all honesty, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do for her birthday. But the thought of going out sent an odd feeling through her.  
  
Her phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts. Ron waited for her to hang up, but instead she shooed him from her office, the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder.  
  
“This isn’t over,” he whispered loudly, pulling her door shut after him.  
  
And he was right.

Somehow Hermione was swept up in plans to go out - with Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, George, and Angelina.  
  
“Happy birthday, Hermione,” Angelina kissed her cheeks and handed her a small package.  
  
“This was really not necessary!”  
  
“We know,” George smiled.  
  
Hermione shook her head. She had already received presents from the others, of course. Ron and Neville were buying drinks and Luna had made her cake.  
  
For a dangerous moment her thoughts wandered to her other present – and more so – who had given it.

She stepped toward Ginny, before her mind went too far.  
  
“Ginny,” Hermione pulled her in close, “thank you for the...well, for the gift.”  
  
Ginny arched an eyebrow and stepped back to give her friend an invasive up-down.  
Ginny gasped, “You’re wearing-“  
  
Hermione’s hand clamped over Ginny’s mouth before she could finish her sentence. She threw a wary glance around, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to them.  
  
_Thank Merlin._  
  
“Sorry,” Ginny mumbled through Hermione’s hand.  
  
Then Ginny stiffened, eyes wide at something past Hermione’s shoulders. Hermione turned to see, but Ginny stopped her.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“You know I don’t believe you.” Hermione scoffed and tried to twist again.  
  
“No, really,” Ginny held her firmly in place and began to shake her head, “Please just trust me?”  
  
Hermione sighed, but nodded, and let Ginny steer her towards her seat.  
  
—————  
  
How was Draco supposed to know Hermione would be celebrating her birthday out with friends?  
  
He debated leaving as soon as he saw Ginny shielding her from him. But Ginny had shaken her head, gesturing for him to pass through to a different sitting area.  
  
Her...”not rudeness” had caught Draco off guard. Out of everyone Hermione was close to Draco would have guessed Ginny to hate him most.

_Solidarity and all that._

Draco made his way to a back corner table to wait for Theo. The pair had planned to meet for a bite at the end of their workweeks.  
  
Since Draco’s newfound sobriety, he had begun to hang out with Theo more. Blaise was still too invested in the party scene, which was having less and less appeal to Draco. He liked the person he was becoming.  
  
Draco’s eyes drifted to the party group, who he could barely see from his chair at a corner table. He couldn’t help but search for her, not knowing how he’d react if she saw him. He scooted his chair just out of their view, in case.  
  
_Coward_ , he thought to himself and looked down at the table.  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” Theo greeted as he pulled his chair back.  
  
Draco glanced up, “S’all right. Waitress hasn’t been by yet.”  
  
“Good, good. I’m starving. Fish and Chips?”  
  
Draco shook his head. “Bangers and mash for me.”  
  
Theo grinned. “One of these days I’ll get you to eat fish. So un-British of you, you know that? Doesn’t eat fish.”  
  
They were chuckling as the waitress approached to take their orders.  
  
Once she left Draco asked, “How’s work?”  
  
Theo shrugged.  
“Same old. I’m tired of pushing papers around. Been thinking of branching out, actually.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
The party group let out some boisterous laughter. Draco flicked his eyes their direction before straightening in his seat to better focus his attention on Theo.  
  
“Yeah mate. I mean, the money is nice, but it’s not...”  
  
“Not fulfilling?” Draco finished.  
  
“Yes! Yes, that’s it. Can I be honest with you?”  
  
In the middle of Draco’s nod, the waitress brought out their food. The scent of warm, salty potatoes and sausage filled the air, sending a grumble through Draco’s stomach.

As they tucked in, Theo went on.  
  
“I’m thinking about applying to Hogwarts.” He almost whispered it.  
  
With a very serious face, Draco said, “You’ve already been.”  
  
Theo waved him off, “Yeah, yeah great point. I’m being serious, you know. What do you think?”  
  
Draco took a sip of his water.  
“I think it’s brilliant.”  
  
“Really. You do? Because I think I could be good at something in magical education. Not sure what, exactly. I’m hoping McGonagall will help me sort it out.”  
  
His friend looked so hopeful. Draco could tell he was more excited than he let on, and it made him genuinely smile.  
“Let me know how it goes.”  
  
Theo agreed through a mouthful of chips.  
“Enough about me,” he said through a gulp, “You. What’s new with… Mr. Weasley?”  
  
Draco’s voice held a slight sneer.  
“Don’t say his name like that. That man has done more for me than my own-”  
  
He stopped himself.  
“Sorry. My tone.”  
  
Theo looked unaffected.  
“Don’t be, I was a bit rude about it. It’s still an adjustment for me, well, for all of us.”  
  
“Isn’t everything since the war?” Draco sighed, “I’m just protective of him is all. Strange, believe me, I know. But it’s true. He’s even given me a project that should’ve gone to someone with more, well to someone else, but he’s letting me take a crack at it. I dunno, makes me feel..”  
  
“A sense of fulfillment?” Theo guessed.  
  
“Yeah, you could say that.” Draco smirked at the irony.  
  
“Can you tell me about this project?”  
  
“Not specifically, no. But I have been having trouble with it. So far, it’s been an unsolvable puzzle and I’m wondering if Mr. Weasley should bring on additional help…”  
  
Theo nodded trying to understand.  
Their conversation and meal went on pleasantly, until...  
  
“Draco! Theo!” A voice called across the dining area.  
  
Draco’s head snapped up. Astoria Greengrass was sauntering towards their table.

A flash of heat rose in Draco’s face, but he schooled it back quickly.  
  
Draco muttered a quiet apology to Theo and stood to leave.  
  
“Such a gentleman to stand for me,” Astoria gushed.

She leant to greet Draco, but he stepped away from her and left the table as if she weren’t there.  
  
“He had to rush out, see,” Theo’s voice carried in an on-purpose way, “Because he doesn’t want anything to do with you.”  
  
Draco smirked back at Theo. As he turned the corner of the dining area, he bumped into something soft. He felt familiar slender arms reach around him as his peripheral vision saw a bottle falling to the stone floor.  
  
On instinct, he caught the arms, and moved himself to fall backwards.

Shattered glass and a sickening crunch sounded. Pain sliced into Draco’s back.  
  
As the commotion settled, he found a surprised Hermione on his chest, staring down at him.  
  
Draco’s heart leapt to his throat, mind racing to pinpoint the last time their faces were this close. 10 months? It felt like a lifetime. He could see his reflection in her eyes. He smelled her perfume. His hands on her waist just felt _right_. But they were making a scene and he knew he needed to end it. For her sake.  
  
He gently righted her and swallowed hard.  
  
“Forgive me,” he breathed in her ear, and swept to the exit.  
  
——————  
  
Harry and Neville were kneeling by Hermione in an instant.

“You all right?” Harry's voice was low.  
  
Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  
  
“Are you hurt?" Neville asked. "I don’t see much glass...”  
  
Harry inclined his head at her.  
  
“H-he...” She started.  
  
Harry saw the tears forming in her eyes and quickly asked Ginny to help her to the restroom.  
  
With Hermione out of sight, Harry bolted into the cool night air to check for Draco. He whipped his head, looking up and down the cobblestone street, but didn’t see a soul.  
  
“Draco?” He called.  
  
“Over here, Potter.”  
  
Harry looked down to where the sound had come from.  
  
Draco Malfoy was on the ground, his shoulder holding him up against the side of the building.  
  
“What are you doing down there?” Harry asked.

“Thought I might like the view – what do you think, Scarhead? I’m bleeding.”

“Wait, don’t move.”  
  
“Wasn’t-planning-to,” Draco grunted.  
  
“You should see your back, Malfoy,” Harry said in a strange sense of awe.  
  
“Feeling it is enough for me, I think.”  
  
“Right, sorry. Let me help you.”

Draco’s back had large chunks of champagne bottle sticking out of it. The near-empty bottle had begun to shatter when Draco landed on it, causing the shards to push into him with the impact of his body hitting the ground.

Harry sat down next to Draco and began casting the proper healing charms to remove the glass, and seal the cuts and scrapes. As Harry worked, they talked.

“I should have let you know we’d be out tonight. Ginny told me she caught you in time.”

Draco sighed, looking down at his hands.  
“You couldn’t have known I was planning to eat here. Tell your wife I said ‘thanks,’ though I wasn't expecting her to do what she did.”

"Why not? She likes you."

"Really?" 

"Yeah Ginny has always been rooting for you and Hermione. Probably for longer than either of you have, to be honest."

Harry grew quiet. It seemed so unfair. Both Draco and Hermione obviously still cared for one another. It was hard watching them go through this. Even though they had healed - time had passed - and even though Draco had vastly improved his character…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Sorry,” Harry ducked his head.

Draco chuckled.  
“You know something?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think I ever slept with Astoria.”

Harry paused his healing work.

“What?”

“I said I don’t think I –“

“No, I heard you. What do you mean? After what you told me a few months ago, it seemed like…”

Draco sat up a little taller. “I know what it seemed like. I didn’t deny it at first, remember? I don't know. There's something about it that isn’t sitting right with me. Can’t put my finger on what it is though.”

“Are you sure it’s not just, forgive me but, that it’s not something you’d do _now_? I mean, you’ve grown up a bit since.”

Draco thought about this. His mind replayed the events that led up to the painful breakup at Flourish and Blotts as well as the night he’d been drinking with Astoria and Blaise.  
“Actually, I am sure. Something is going on. I just need to figure out what.”

Harry’s expression was one of interest.  
“Want help?”

Draco smirked, “From you?”

Harry shrugged.  
“I mean I could go ask Ron-“

But he hadn’t even finished his sentence before Draco had shoved him so hard he fell over.

\------------------------------------------

“Better?” Ginny asked carefully.  
  
Hermione had stopped crying, though her eyes were still red.  
  
“Better,” Hermione nodded. “Thanks Gin.”  
  
“No need to thank me. How about I let you be for a minute? I can let the others know you’re fine and tell them to not be weird whenever you come out.”  
  
Hermione gave Ginny an appreciative look and agreed. After Ginny left, Hermione stared in the mirror, willing her eyes to stop looking so sad. Or, at least, to return to their normal color. Pink wasn’t ideal.  
  
She took a deep breath, emptying her mind of thought. She could examine and analyze everything later in the safety and comfort of her bedroom. Right now, she needed to enjoy the time with her friends.  
  
She took a step back into one of the stalls to blow her nose one last time.  
  
As she brought the tissue to her face, the bathroom door banged open and a woman’s frustrated voice echoed off the walls.  
  
“What. is. WRONGWITHHIM!?” The voice shrieked.

Hermione stilled.  
  
She knew that voice. It belonged to Astoria Greengrass. Quietly, she cast a wandless disillusionment charm over her body, blending her into her surroundings.  
  
Hermione wondered what this was about. She could suppose the “him” Astoria was referring to was Draco. Maybe Blaise or Theo, but it was unlikely.  
  
The tiniest sense of satisfaction washed over Hermione. She didn’t know what was going on, but it was a nice feeling just the same. _  
_  
Astoria was pacing now.  
“That’s twice now...It should’ve worked. What am I doing wrong? What am I doing wrong?”  
  
_Twice? What is she on about?_

Some unintelligible words came spewing from her all-too-perfect mouth. After a minute or two, she seemed to cool down. And that's when Hermione honed in on what she was saying.

“Well Astoria,” Astoria said to her mirror reflection, “You’re just going to have to try harder. Maybe practice on Blaise again or get your wand inspected or...oh of course. Of course! Astoria, you’re a genius.”  
  
Astoria was smirking now, fussing with her hair. She didn’t say more, and to Hermione’s relief, soon left the restroom.  
  
Was she talking about Draco? And if she was, what had she been doing? What was she planning now?  
  
  
  
  



End file.
